


Full Circle

by Nicholls



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Flashback, Gen, M/M, Nathan mentioned only, beach, rinch if you squint, young harold, young john - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 13:09:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicholls/pseuds/Nicholls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John had met Harold thirty years before they began working together. He just didn't know it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full Circle

_Michigan- Shores of the Great Lakes_

_John: Age 7_

_Harold: Age 15/16_

A young boy stood by the water's edge, causally sending stones splashing into the waves. Frowning, the child tried again only to see his stones sink to the bottom of the lake. He kicked the sand angrily and threw a handful of pebbles into the water in protest.

"You know," a voice said from behind. "It's all in the wrist."

Turning around, the kid eyed the intruder warily.

"Who are you?" He asked slowly. "I've never seen you 'round here before.

The stranger smiled warmly. He was quite a bit taller than they younger boy, so he was probably around fifteen or sixteen at the most. Round glasses sat perched on his narrow nose and his dark hair stood on end wildly.

"I'm merely visiting," the teen replied.

The child said nothing.

"I'm Harold Collins," he said only adding his last name after a pause, and extended his hand. "And you are?"

"John," the boy answered and cautiously took the offered appendage.

Harold chuckled. "Do you have a last name, John?"

Sticking out a bottom lip in a slight pout, the young boy answered, "Mom and Dad told me not to talk to strangers. You are lucky to have gotten my first name, mister."

This caused Harold to laugh even harder.

"What's so funny?" John snapped.

"Nothing," the teenager said as he tried to diffuse the situation. "My, you have a little temper there, John."

Rolling his blue eyes, John replied. "Mom says that too, Mister Harold."

"Just Harold. I'm not that old you know."

"You are to me," was the reply.

Harold chose to ignore the comment.

"Where are your parents, John?" he asked.

John bristled. "Work," he said simply, though it took a lot of effort.

"And they left you here by yourself?"

John stomped angrily, sending sand flying everywhere. "I'm almost eight, I can take care of myself!"

Harold's eyes widened. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean- I'm sure you can."

"Besides, I live nearby and I'm used to it."

That comment sent a pang of sadness through the teenager standing there. So this was a regular occurrence? How long had John been left along? Looking over at the boy, Harold noticed he was hurling rocks into the water again.

"Use your wrist, John." he added after a moment.

John huffed but tried it anyway. He was pleasantly surprised when the smooth stone skipped twice before falling beneath the waves. Turning back towards the strange young man, John gave him a wide grin.

Harold couldn't help but smile in return. "There you go."

"Thank you."

There was a comfortable silence as John continued to practice. He got up to five skips before he stopped and turned to Harold.

"You never said why you were here, Harold."

"Vacation, as it seems," Harold responded as he stretched his legs on the sand, the wind playing with his hair.

John eyed him. "From what?"

"MIT," Harold responded.

The confused look on John's face prompted Harold to explain further and that MIT stood for Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

"But you're not old enough," John said slowly. The kid was sharp, he'll give him that.

Harold smirked. "Before you called me old."

John frowned. "I take it back."

Smiling, Harold stood up and wiped the sand from his pants.

"Are you leaving?" John asked, suddenly sad and he didn't know why. Perhaps because he didn't want Harold to leave so soon.

"In a bit."

Eyes shifting over to a nearby dock, John grabbed the taller boy's hand and dragged him along.

"C'mon! I'll show you my sailboat."

This confused the genius. John owned a boat? He was seven!

A half a mile down the beach later, John pulled his friend out to the end of the dock. A small toy sailboat, about two feet in length, floated by the wood and was anchored by string. Harold smiled. This was more believable. Looking at the side, he noticed there was no name.

"What's her name, John?" he asked.

John shrugged. "Doesn't have one."

"Oh. Did you ask a friend for help naming her?"

There was a pause.

"I don't have any friends," John said softly. "Dad's job makes him travel a lot and we never stay long wherever we go. We actually just came back here recently."

Harold pursed his lips. "Were you born here?"

John nodded. "But we moved a bunch of times. I can't remember all the places though."

That is not conducive for a six year old boy, Harold thought. When he looked at John quietly tinkering with his small, white boat, his heart clenched. The boy should be playing with friends and getting into trouble, not standing alone on a beach skipping rocks.

Maybe that's why he was drawn to this place. Perhaps that is why he took a different route back to his friend's vacation house. There was something about John that was interesting, he just couldn't tell what it was.

Harold was snapped out of his daydream by the younger boy's shout of despair.

"My boat!"

The toy had fallen over the side of the dock and was floating away. John desperately tried to grab it, but tripped. Harold panicked when they boy went over the side with a giant shriek.

"JOHN!"

Splashing and sputtering could be heard and that was all it took. Harold dove over the railing and swam over to where John was flailing. Wrapping his arms around the small child, he started swimming towards shore.

It was a bit difficult because John kept struggling and tried to escape, but Harold held him tight.

"John! It's okay!" the student said between breaths, it was hard to talk because lake water kept filling his mouth. "It's going to be okay."

After pulling them both onto the sand, Harold finally let his grip on John go. The kid coughed up water and looked around frantically.

"You saved me," John said incredulously.

Harold wiped water from his glasses. "Of course, John. That's what friends do."

This caught John off guard. "Friends?" he said quietly.

Nodding, Harold looked the kid over to make sure he was indeed all right. John looked visibly shaken, but otherwise unharmed.

"Do you know how to swim, John? Or did you just panic?"

John averted his eyes. "I never learned how."

"It's okay," Harold said calmly. "Let's just get you home."

Despite what had just happened. John looked back at the water. "My boat…" he said sadly, barely a whisper. But Harold had heard.

It seemed that John was too exhausted to walk all the way back to his house, so Harold gave him a lift on his back. The kid was barely able to give the teen directions, but Harold didn't mind though.

He found the house easily enough. John had stuck out his tongue when he was told to change out of his wet clothes, but obeyed just the same.

A few minutes later, John came out of his bedroom with an armful of clothes.

"These are for you," he said in a small voice. "You're bigger than me, so they probably won't fit…"

Harold chuckled at the sweet gesture.

"I'm good, John," he said and ruffled the boy's dark hair.

John stared at the bundle in his arms. "You're going away now, aren't you?" he whispered sadly, his tiny shoulders drooping.

A pang of guilt hit like a train.

"I'm sorry."

Tears welled up in his blue eyes but John wiped them away with the back of his hand. "S'okay," he mumbled. "I'm used to it."

The college student knelt down and put his hand on the kid's shoulder. "I can come back and visit you."

John shook his head sending water flying. "Dad moves us a lot. We never stay in one place for too long."

There wasn't much Harold could say. The sun would be setting soon and he really needed to get back. Nathan would be wondering where he was. The older boy always worried about Harold, probably because he wasn't used to having such a young classmate.

"Here," the boy genius said as he pulled a small coin out of his pocket. "This used to belong to my uncle."

John took the gift in his hand. There was some kind of bird on one side and something else that looked like a mountain on the other.

"My uncle loved birds, so he had some special coins made as gifts."

"That's kinda weird," John replied.

Harold laughed. "Yes, I suppose it is. I don't really see his fascination with birds, but I guess to each his own."

"Thank you," John said softly.

"I'll be seeing you, John."

* * *

A few days later, John's mom informed him he had a package. The boy eagerly ripped open the brown box and lifted out a new sailboat, twice as large as his other one. A huge smile lit up his face as he read the letter attached to the sail.

_Dear John,_

_I'm sorry about your other boat. I hope this can help._

At the end there was a small drawing of a bird, like the one on the coin. John smiled even larger.

"What are you going to name it?" his father had asked.

John grabbed a permanent marker and sat down on the ground. He made careful strokes on the side of the boat and recapped the marker, looking pleased with his handiwork.

_**HAROLD** _

Not caring that his parents didn't understand the reference, because John did, and that's all that mattered.

* * *

The next time Harold had a break in his classes, he returned to the lake where he'd first met that lonely boy. Unfortunately, it was a year before he could acquire any time off. He'd asked around the small town, but someone had told him the small family had moved a couple months ago. The bartender of a local bar said it was more near the end of the summer.

 _That was a month after I left. John wasn't kidding._ Harold thought.

He thanked the man and exited. Sighing deeply, he walked back to Nathan's in silence.

* * *

_30 years later…_

Wheeling around the hospital was easier now than it had been a week ago. But Harold wasn't complaining, he was happy to be alive. He was flipping through a manila folder when his chair was jostled by a person walking by.

"Sorry," Harold said before he could think.

The bearded man didn't seem to notice and kept walking, his eyes hollow.

"I'm so sorry…" the near cripple whispered as he noticed the man. It was the same person in his file. He was hoping John would come around before long, but he hated the circumstances.

After graduating, Harold had managed to track John down. The young boy had grown up and joined the Army. Gone was the insecure child who jumped into the lake without realizing he couldn't swim. It also seemed the army had managed to dampen John's quick temper. Harold was proud. John had grown up wonderfully.

Ten years had passed and Harold lost John for a bit. The soldier had gone undercover and off the grid. Harold was a bit disappointed, but he knew his friend could handle anything.

 _I wonder if he learned how to swim…_ he wondered silently.

Then one day he learned about Jessica and his whole world stopped. But nothing was worse than seeing that empty look in John's eyes that day in the hospital. Harold knew that the man he was looking for would show up eventually, but nothing prepared him for that.

"I'm so sorry, John."

* * *

John threw off is overcoat and dove into the water after his boss had accidently taken a wrong step on the pier. The number had gotten away but Reese didn't care at the moment. Finch needed him, now.

Ever since the accident, Harold wasn't able to move as freely as before. This severely limited his movements, which incidentally, included swimming.

He felt a pair of strong arms grab him around the stomach and suddenly he was gasping as they broke the surface. Water was staining his glasses but he knew who the other man was. He'd known him for over three decades from afar.

John pulled them both back onto the wooden platform and draped his dry, long coat around Harold's shoulders.

 _I see you learned how to swim, John._ Harold thought to himself and he smiled.

Harold allowed John to help him back to the car. The walk was silent and the genius kept thinking about that seven year old boy back in Michigan, whom he had saved over thirty years ago, and how that same boy had just done the same for him.

Everything had come full circle.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I played a little fast and loose with the canon. That's not Harold's real last name nor are their ages correct. Although in 2x05, John's age is listed as 44 (the same as JC's) but Harold could have made it up just like he did with the entire profile.
> 
> Hope you like it, Irrelevants!


End file.
